


dohter's clarity

by oneoff



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Gen, Mental Health Issues, alfion if u squint, basically ogen has a pseudo-therapy session with therion, but less cool than ur thinking probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:20:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23978854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oneoff/pseuds/oneoff
Summary: “live; if not for yourself, for those who still need you”Ogen meets a fellow traveler and re-confronts his sins, his goals, and himself.---written for the 2019 octopath traveler gift exchange
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Ogen & Therion (Octopath Traveler)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	dohter's clarity

As he trudges through the endless foliage of S’warkii, cold wind biting at his cloak, Ogen thinks he has made many, many mistakes.

Firstly, he hadn’t really meant to make it back up here — ever since some time ago, he’s not really been much for cold weather anymore. Secondly, he’s lost his map. It’s not that big of a deal because he knows he’s close to a village anyway, but it still irks him that he’s been that careless.

Thirdly, there is currently a young man in front of him nursing a back wound — it’s not that obvious at first sight, what with the kid’s layers and his own actions to hide it, but Ogen _is_ still an apothecary, after all. This, he supposes, isn’t his fault or anything, so technically it doesn’t count as a mistake of his own, but Ogen still can’t help but wonder what he did to end up here.

“You should let me take a look at that,” Ogen says to him, who seems as surprised as Ogen is himself that he’s spoken to him.

“And why should I let you do that?” 

“You’re hurt. I can help.” Ogen sees the man’s eyes dart to his satchel with a note of recognition, but he still seems wary. Ogen sighs. “Let’s get somewhere warmer.”

“...You’re that apothecary.” Ogen shifts his gaze up, though his hands keep moving. The young man squints at him, but Ogen can’t really make himself feel intimidated under his scrutiny. “The one Alfyn was so intent on helping, a while back.”

Ogen stiffens, then forces his hands to relax. “Alfyn…” he murmurs. “Greengrass?” he asks, directing his question to his patient, who scoffs.

“Know any others?”

“You never know,” he responds, lifting a nonchalant shoulder. 

It’s silent save for Ogen’s clinking bottles for a few moments, then an almost accusatory voice: “He went through a lot for you, you know. You and that medicine.”

“I know,” Ogen says smoothly. “Ogre eagle feathers aren’t exactly easy to come by.”

The young man grunts. “You bet they aren’t. We could’ve died, you know, getting that…” he trails off, prompting Ogen to look up and gauge his expression—one of scrutiny again, but there’s no suspicion in it anymore. “How did you know about the feather? Could you sniff out the ogre eagle or something? Is that an apothecary thing?”

Ogen feels his lip quirk up. “Please. Alfyn left me an extra vial and the recipe. Put a little letter in there, too. Cheeky bastard.”

He snorts. “Bet it said something like, ‘Hiya, friend! Thought ya might find this useful — keep up, old man!’”

“That’s actually… not entirely inaccurate.”

The young man smiles briefly. Another long pause.

“So… I’m a thief.”

“...Okay,” Ogen says, unsure of where he’s going with this.

“Are you going to, like, refuse to treat me or.” He pauses. “Because I can patch myself up. If you need to. Preserve your morals, or whatever.”

Ogen scowls, then trains his face back into passivity. “I don’t… do that anymore.”

“You sure?” he asks skeptically. “Believe me, I’ll be okay if—”

“Just turn around,” Ogen says, snapping a little. “Besides, you’re one of Alfyn’s friends. Can’t be too bad, if that’s the case.”

The man chuckles and does as he’s told. “Guess I can’t be.”

He gets to know the young thief (his name is Therion) fairly well over the course of their travels. There’s a lot of silences between them, because neither are really the type for small talk, and Ogen is perfectly fine with that.

And then Ogen has a nightmare. It’s nothing new to him. It happens every year around this time, unfailingly, as if his body just _knows_ and won’t ever forget it. Every year, the same feelings stay etched into his memories — the sound of the wife’s voice and the child’s happy gurgling through the window as he realized who the man standing next to them was, the warmth of his blood-slicked hands, and the guttural, insatiable rage in him transforming slowly but surely into horrible, horrible regret.

His hands had the power to save people, Graham Crossford had told him, but how can that be true when his hands are perpetually bloodstained, because what is he, really, if not the product of his past mistakes?

“…Ogen. Ogen!”

His eyes dart open, and his hand automatically scrabbles for his satchel. Therion huffs, and Ogen sees him wrap his cloak more tightly around himself through his own bleary vision. 

“I don’t know who this Melyssa person is, but I’m not so sure _I_ can forgive you for making such a racket at this time of night.” He must notice how Ogen tenses at the name, though, because he backtracks hastily, “Hey, don’t worry too much though, okay? I’m no stranger to nightmares myself, y’know. …And you weren’t being that loud, anyway.”

The silence stretches between them. Ogen stares listlessly at nothing, and Therion seems increasingly uncomfortable, until suddenly he says, “Sor…ry again. If y—”

“Therion. Kid, I’m a really bad person.”

He has no clue how he let himself get here. He doesn’t deserve to have the chances he’s been given, and the kid sure as hell doesn’t deserve to have to deal with the godsdamned mess of a man he is. What right does he have, traveling around calling himself an apothecary, when he was so blinded to the true cause of a healer for so long?

 _I ain’t no god!_ The words in his memory lash out at him, just as sharp as they were back then from that boy’s impassioned voice.

His thoughts, though, are interrupted by a snort. “Come on, Ogen, don’t be dramatic. You’re being too harsh on yourself, probably.”

“You don’t understand,” Ogen retorts hoarsely. “Something like that—it doesn’t just—just go away, it can’t, she can’t _ever_ forgive—” His voice cracks, and he lets it falter and die down. For a brief, bizarre second, he considers telling Therion what he’s done, then barks out some semblance of a laugh.

“You should visit her,” Therion says. “Ask her.”

“Melyssa was my wife.” Ogen knows from the flicker in Therion’s expression that he doesn’t have to explain.

“You can still do those things.”

Ogen’s face crumples. “I can’t,” he says weakly, then swallows. “I—I can’t.” Therion’s face hardens in what Ogen thinks might be determination.

“I’ll help you, then.”

“No!” He flinches at the intensity of his own reaction. “Sorry, I—you shouldn’t have to get yourself tangled up in my troubles, not for me.” _I work alone_ , he remembers telling that boy all the way back then.

Therion lets out an impatient noise. “If there’s two things I’ve learned, it’s this: you can’t let the past control you, or you won’t get anywhere. Let yourself live, for the gods’ sake. I’ve done bad things myself, believe it or not,” he says dryly, “and I’ve seen bad things happen too, and let them happen, so that makes me at least as bad as you.”

Ogen thinks about how those things are most definitely not the same and considers telling Therion again, even opening his mouth to do so, but Therion snaps, “I’m not done yet! I changed, and you can, too. You already have, haven’t you? You wouldn’t have given me the time of day if I’d met you before Alfyn.

“And the second thing: you shouldn’t be afraid to trust. My bonds make me— my friends are—” Therion goes silent for a moment, struggling for words, and in another situation Ogen might’ve laughed at his obvious unfamiliarity with voicing such matters. “Look, just think about it, okay? I wasn’t kidding about helping,” he finally says in a matter-of-fact tone.

“It’s not just that. I just can’t… can’t face her right now. I need to do her proud, to keep helping people. It’s fine if you don’t get it, but it just doesn’t feel right.”

Therion’s eyebrows furrow in conflict, and his lips press together. “I don’t think it’d do you bad to let yourself see her,” he says carefully. “But…” A sigh. “Whatever you need.”

Ogen grunts in response. At the end of the day, he is an apothecary: one who’s trying, even if it’s in a different way from that boy. Then, after a moment— 

“That Greengrass kid… he really knows what he’s doing,” Ogen says gruffly, his mind drifting again.

A fond smile plays across Therion’s face that’s different from any other expression Ogen has seen. “Yeah,” Therion echoes, “he does.” 

Ogen wordlessly lifts a clothed arm into which he presses his face. He hears shuffling in Therion’s direction but doesn’t bother looking. The boy sighs, much closer to him suddenly, and there’s the telltale scent of herbs wafting through the air.

“You’re gonna be okay, Ogen.”

He hopes so, too.

Ogen lifts his gaze to the grave before him, still painfully familiar despite the long wait.

“Hey, Melyssa,” he begins gruffly, then coughs. His hand comes up to rest on the back of his neck, and the bouquet of mind-me-always he’s holding droops a little in his other hand, following the movement of his wrist. “It really has been too many bloody years, hasn’t it…

“Sorry for not visiting. I had something I needed to do, something to prove — but you’d understand, I think. You always could. Even now, when I’m just a, just a sad old man with too many misgivings than he knows what to do with. Too many ramblings, too.” He laughs morosely.

“But you know… I think I’m ready again.”

**Author's Note:**

> i am so fuckign sorry this is so late yeesh but i at least wanted to finish this ;; it was def out of my comfort zone but hey that's what i wanted, and i got to think about the (perhaps manufactured) similarities btwn therion and ogen while writing this that i didn't even realize when i decided ogen would chance upon therion alone so that was kinda cool
> 
> it's been a while since i've thought about these characters so some of it might be a tad ooc but hopefully not so much that it detracts from the writing (we'll call it creative/post-canon liberty). is therion supposed to be nicer than he was before but still sort of a callous asshole? *road work ahead voice* i sure hope so
> 
> also i wasn't really sure how to deal w like what the rest of the team does during storylines like is everyone just chillin while one character gets threatened or smth? so for Reasons therion knows ogen's wife is dead but not her name nor that ogen killed a man  
> someone teach me how to tag rip anyway hope u enjoyed :0


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